


Rarepair Spooky Prompt Time

by OnceAndFloral



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: F/F, Ghosts, Halloween event, Haunting, M/M, Warnings and Ratings may change in the future, a lot of these are much more serious than the title makes it sound, bc not all of these are finished yet, making amends, tags will update as I go to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceAndFloral/pseuds/OnceAndFloral
Summary: It's Halloween time, and I got a list of spooky prompts and underappreciated ships, so here we go!





	Rarepair Spooky Prompt Time

**Author's Note:**

> _“42. It always happens when he’s alone in the car.”_

Rich sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat and gripping the wheel. Outside the night was pitch black, pressing at the car from all around like inky black water. He managed to catch sight of Jake and Chloe waving goodbye before they disappeared into the void.

He bit down on his lip, grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles turned white. Why was he acting like this? Nothing bad had happened, no event to send him off into the deep end. Hell, he’d just spent the evening hanging out with his best friends. He should be _happy_. Why wasn’t he happy?

The keys were being turned in the ignition before the bad thoughts could get to Rich any further. He sighed in agitation, eyes drifting to the side. In the empty passenger seat sat a CD that read “Michael’s Mixtape” in permanent marker, surrounded by little doodles of Pac-Man Ghosts and music notes. It was a hand-me-down mixtape, some of the marker scratched off. Something at the bottom had been rubbed away into illegibility. Rich briefly switched through the channels on the radio, finding a whole load of shit. He growled and picked up the CD, popping it in. Almost instantaneously the sugary pop of whatever station the radio had been on switched to something much slower. Calmer.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Rich closed his eyes and leaned his head against the seat. This shit was much more preferable to whatever tripe had been on the radio, even if it didn’t necessarily fit Rich’s normal. Okay, maybe not tripe. Some people liked it.

Michael just happened to have much better tastes.

He probably should start driving. He didn’t. Rich clutched the wheel, arms stiff as boards as the seconds ticked by with the beat of the song. Something cold and hard was settled in his stomach, twisting through his insides like a snake. Rich idly hummed along with the song.

Time slipped by quickly, one song leading into another. He should have started heading home a while ago, but he just couldn’t bring himself to start driving. Couldn’t bring himself to do anything except hold onto the wheel like a life ring.

A soft voice started humming along to whatever melody was playing through the speakers. Rich frowned. It didn’t sound like it was part of the song. He slowly tore his eyes away from the blackness outside his windshield. For a moment, he didn’t see anything. It was just the inside of his car. Then he noticed a blurry, almost misty figure in the passenger seat.

The more he stared, the more the mist coalesced into a definitive shape. A pale, scrawny guy-not too much younger than Rich-was rocking back and forth in the seat, eyes closed and humming along to the song from the mixtape. Rich could _see right through him_.

Rich screamed and tore open the car door, falling onto the ground outside. He gasped so sharply he broke into a coughing fit. “What the fuck?!” He shot back to his feet and looked inside. The radio had stopped, and the guy was gone.

“I’m going fucking insane,” Rich mumbled. He turned the volume dial all the way down and got back into the driver’s seat. He didn’t have any problems stepping down on the gas pedal and driving home as fast as he could this time.

* * *

That wasn’t the last time Rich saw him. Every time he was alone in the car, a quiet voice would hum along to the song playing through the speakers, or sing its own song if Rich turned down the volume. He refused to look at the passenger seat at all.

Strangely enough, whenever someone else was in the car, it didn’t happen. When Rich and Jake drove to a party, there was no humming. No singing when he drove Jenna down to the store. Rich was fairly certain he was going crazy.

“I fucking hate you, you know that, right?” Rich abruptly said one day as the voice hummed along with Amanda Palmer. The car went silent except for the sound of the stereos.

_“I do too.”_

It took everything Rich had to not slam his foot down on the brake and or swerve the wheel out of pure instinct. “You can fucking talk?!”

 _”Of course I can talk,”_ Its voice felt cold and empty, sending goosebumps up and down Rich’s skin. He wasn’t really sure how a voice could _feel_ cold and empty, but here he was experiencing it. _”If I could sing, why couldn’t I talk?”_

Rich wasn’t sure if he heard the voice inside or outside of his head. “Yea, but you’ve never _done_ it before!”

 _”You’ve never talked to me before,”_ It paused. _”You’re not looking at me.”_

He grit his teeth, staring at the road as if would set on fire if he tried hard enough. He’d be damned if he was going to look into that passenger seat and see that pale, ghostly figure. “I’m driving.”

More silence. Something cold and without substance brushed against Rich’s shoulder. He yelped, narrowly avoiding swerving again. “Jesus!”

 _”You felt that?”_

“Yea, I felt that! Don’t do it again!” Rich bit down on his tongue, pulling the car over and putting it into park. He buried his face into his hands. The uncomfortable feeling of eyes staring at him pressed at him. “Why are you fucking here?”

 _”I haven’t listened to music in so long.”_ It sounded mournful, forlorn. 

“Why are you bothering _me_? You didn’t bother to show up when Jenna or Jake was here.”

It paused again. _”I don’t… I don’t like to be around a lot of people. It’s stressful.”_

Another brush of freezing weightlessness to Rich’s shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut against the feeling. _”Please just… please look at me.”_ There was thinly veiled desperation in its voice. Rich bit down even harder on his lip until he could almost taste blood.

He opened his eyes and looked to the right. The spectral figure was leaning close to him, a look of indescribable grief and despair on its-his- face that knocked the air straight out of Rich’s lungs. He had curly hair, eyes that were so dull of a green they were almost grey. Not much of him had any color at all, really. One of his hands was settled on Rich’s shoulder.

“You…” Rich couldn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t know how.

 _”I what?”_

“You look familiar.”

The apparition shook his head. _”I wouldn’t be able to tell.”_

“What-” Rich stopped. This felt like he was crossing a line he could never step back across if he asked this. Rich, however, was not known for his impulse control. “What’s your name?”

 _”I think it’s.... Jeremy.”_ He nodded slowly. _”That’s it. It’s Jeremy.”_

“Well, I’m Rich. What about your last name?”

 _”I don’t know that one._ ”

Rich sighed. “And you’re… y’know, dead? Like a ghost?”

Jeremy thought about this for a few seconds. _”Yes. I am.”_

“That must be interesting.”

If it was possible, the look of melancholy in Jeremy’s eyes intensified. _”It’s… something.”_

* * *

Rich eventually became accustomed to having Jeremy in the car with him. He wasn’t afraid to look at him anymore. Even if the aura of sadness never quite faded from around him, Jeremy and Rich actually had interesting conversation. Jeremy was a wellspring of dorky jokes and references.

Sometimes Rich would get a warmish feeling when he looked at Jeremy. It was probably irrelevant. Likely just a weird effect ghosts had. It wasn’t like Rich sometimes just went out to sit in the car and talk to Jeremy.

(He did, but he’d be damned if he told anyone.)

Jeremy occasionally flickered out of existence. It was terrifying, all garbled screams that sounded like they were coming from the other side of a pool while underwater as Jeremy’s entire form shuddered and winked in and out of the material plane. When he came back, he always looked exhausted, somehow paler than usual. Jeremy always insisted he was fine, but Rich was worried nonetheless.

_”I don’t want to loose my car buddy,” Rich said. Jeremy smiled weakly, hands still shaking_

__”I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry,” _Jeremy’s voice was barely above a whisper._

“Dude.” Rich blinked as Jake nudged his shoulder. “Spacing out there?”

“No, I was just. Thinking about someone.”

“Rich has a crush,” Jenna sang.

“I do not!” Rich said defensively.

Jake snorted. “I was skeptical but now I’m totally on Jenna’s side.”

“Fuck you, Dillinger!” Rich grit his teeth. Time to change the subject. “What’s taking Michael so long?”

It was like Rich had mentioned an outbreak of the plague. Jake and Jenna’s faces fell, eyes darting side to side.

“Michael… Michael isn’t coming,” Jake said slowly.

“It’s the anniversary of his best friend from high school’s death,” Jenna mumbled. Jake shot her a warning look. “He deserves to know!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Rich frowned. “He never mentioned anyone.”

“He did this last year too dude,” Jake said. “Remember when he came back for lunch the next day and his eyes were all red?”

Rich did in fact remember that day. “I thought it had been from weed or some shit.”

Jenna shook her head. “They were supposed to go to college together, but the summer they were supposed to leave Michael’s friend disappeared. His body showed up a couple days later.”

“How do you know all this?” Jenna gave Rich The Look. “Right, you know everything.”

“Michael used to make him mixtapes ‘n shit too I think,” Jake said thoughtfully. “Gave most of ‘em away.”

Rich’s heart rose up to his throat as he thought back to a mixtape CD with a name completely scratched off at the bottom. “What was his name?”

Jenna squinted. “Something beginning with a ‘J’, I think. J… Ji… Je…?”

“Jeremy?” Rich felt everything inside him turn into ice as Jenna snapped her fingers and nodded vigorously.

“That was it! Jeremy Heere! Sweet kid, I heard.” She shrugged. “Anyways, the best thing we can do is just give Michael his time. He just needs this one day.” 

Rich smothered back a gag. “I-I need to go. Shit I forgot to pick up at the store.”

“If you say so, just-”

He was already gone, sprinting back to his car out in the parking lot. He ripped the door open, basically throwing himself into the driver’s seat and wrenching the door shut again. He swallowed back the bile rising up his throat.

 _“Rich?”_ Jeremy appeared in the other seat. _“Are you okay?”_

“Jeremy,” Rich turned towards him, hands going to grab Jeremy’s shoulders. He stopped when he remembered that he couldn’t touch Jeremy. “Jeremy, can you remember _anything_ about your life?” There had to be some insane coincidence. Some crazy stretch that Jeremy had appeared when Rich played that mixtape, and that Michael’s friend was named Jeremy. That was a common name, right? _Right?_

Jeremy flinched. _”I-I can’t.”_

“ _Please_ , you have to know something!”

 _”Ri-Rich, you’re scaring me.”_ Jeremy shrunk back, curling up to make himself seem smaller.

Rich dragged his hands back through his hair. Why was this freaking him out so much? He knew that Jeremy was dead, it wasn’t a surprise. _Why was he panicking at the thought of Jeremy being Michael’s dead friend?_

Feather light touches brushed against Rich’s face. _”You’re crying,”_ Jeremy whispered.

“I’m sorry, I just-” Rich choked on a sob. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

 _”It’s okay,”_ Jeremy murmured. _”Everything is going to be okay.”_

It wasn’t. Rich knew it wasn’t. He sat there for a good fifty minutes trying to fight back panic and tears, Jeremy’s mere presence comforting him and sapping away his sanity simultaneously.

* * *

A week later, Rich was sitting in a cafe across from Michael, hands folded on the table. Neither of them had said anything yet. Rich wordlessly took out the plastic case containing the CD from his pocket and set it on the table.

Michael laughed dryly. “You called me here to talk about a mixtape? I know my music tastes are great but-”

“Who did you make this for?” Rich asked quietly. Michael did a double take.

“I… I’m sorry?”

“Look, I’m really sorry if this is bringing up bad memories, but I need to know who you made this for first.”

Michael’s hands clenched into fists. “Rich, you’re treading on some thin ass ice right now.”

“This is kinda important.”

“It was for my friend Jeremy, okay? What was so fucking important that you needed to bring that shit up?”

The shadows that had been roiling around in his stomach the entire week solidified. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to say?!” Michael stood up from his seat. “This oh so important shit that obviously stressed me out get’s an ‘okay’?!”

“Michael, this isn’t about you, it’s-”

“Not about me?! It’s my mixtape, _my_ best friend and you’re treating it like some-!” He pursed his lips. “Like some joke.” He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, seemingly determined to keep his angry appearance. “He’s been gone for years, Rich! I got rid of those mixtapes so I wouldn’t have to think about all the time I devoted to him and fucking lost because I couldn’t keep track of him!” Michael was beginning to look frantic, and people were beginning to look their way.

Rich held up his hands in an attempt to placate him. “Whoa, Michael just-”

“One fucking night, Rich! I left for one fucking night and then he’s gone!” Michael let out a broken sob. “All I can think was that it was my fucking fault and I-” He stopped until the sniffles died away. “You have the _gall_ to bring all that shit up again, and when I ask for an explanation you give me a measly fucking ‘okay’.” 

“I’m sorry, I was just…” The words died in Rich’s throat.

“You were just what?”

“I’m sorry,” Rich whispered hoarsely.

Michael picked up his bag, turning on his heels to towards the door. “That’s what a lot of people say.”

* * *

_”You want me to what_?” Jeremy deadpanned.

“I want you to talk to my friend Michael.”

Jeremy was silent for a few moments. _”That sounds like a terrible idea.”_

Rich groaned. “Come on, it’s not going to be too much worse than talking to me. I won’t even be in here if you want because of your weird social anxiety.”

_”Why do you even want me to talk to him?”_

It was Rich’s turn to go silent. “You just need to trust me, okay?”

_”Fine.”_

Rich shot a text at Michael. It took him a few tries to actually get an argument convincing enough to get him to come after the incident at the cafe. He sighed, stepping out of the car to wait for Michael.

He pulled up about half an hour later. “What do you want?”

“Michael, I need you to to get in my car.”

Michael blinked. “What the fuck.”

Rich sighed and opened the door. “Just get in and if nothing happens in two minutes you can get out.”

Michael considered this for a few moments, and then opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, closing it again. Rich turned away, but he took the yelp and the dull _slam!_ against the car window as a good sign.

Ten minutes later, Michael still hadn’t come out. Rich had refused to even turn around. This wasn’t his moment to take. Something was still settled uncomfortably at the bottom of his ribcage.

He heard the door open behind him. Rich finally spun around on his feet. Michael was wiping away tears, but a wide smile had graced his features. “He, uh, he said he wants to talk to you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Wait, Rich.” Michael hesitated for a few moments, and then threw his arms around Rich. “Thanks for that. I never… I never got to say goodbye.”

“It’s no problem dude.” Rich pretended he wasn’t having problems swallowing. He prodded Michael’s side. “You should go.”

Michael nodded, heading off to his car. Rich dropped back into the driver’s seat. Jeremy blinked at him. No one said anything for a while.

 _”I remember it all,”_ Jeremy said. His voice sounded distant, like he was speaking down a long tunnel.

“Oh yea?”

 _”I saw Michael and it just…”_ He snapped his fingers.

Rich worried at his bottom lip. “That’s great dude.”

Another minute of silence. _”I don’t think I can stay any longer,”_

He swallowed. “I kind of thought so.”

 _”I’m really glad I met you. Kinda wish I didn’t do it when I was dead but…”_ Jeremy chuckled weakly. _”Do you think that… if I wasn’t dead… we could just been something?”_

Rich thought back on the countless conversations over the months. The nights of listening to songs from the mixtape or making fun of the ones on the radio. That stupid warm feeling. “I dunno. Maybe.”

Jeremy was flickering in and out of existence again, but there was no faint screaming. He looked… peaceful. Content. _”Thanks for going through all that shit.”_

Rich shrugged. He’d never been one for being great at speaking during emotional moments. Maybe he should have some big speech for Jeremy, or for himself, but he didn’t. Maybe that was okay.

Jeremy leaned across the seat and pressed a short kiss to Rich’s forehead. Just like all the other times he’d touched Rich, the sensation was weightless, but this time it held warmth. Rich blinked, and just like that, Jeremy was gone.

For a few moments, Rich was back to that night where he’d sat in the car in the inky void, unable to do anything except stare out the window. Back to that indescribable feeling of unexplained anger and sadness. He looked to the now empty passenger seat. The mixtape CD sat there in its plastic case, glinting in the evening light.

Rich smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> And thus marks the beginning of the Rarepair Spooky Prompt time! If there's a rarepair you want added to the list, comment below and it might get added!
> 
> Catch me on tumblr as squip-grandma!
> 
> Edit: my friend actually wrote a fic using the same prompt so [go check it out over here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173325)


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